"C’mon, sugarcube. Gotta get up."
Caramel groaned, pulling the sheet tighter over his head. “Can’t. Told you. Gonna skip a day.”
"Nnnnnnope." Big Macintosh grabbed the sheet and blankets in his massive jaw and threw them across the bed, leaving the delicate yellow stallion exposed to the sunlight streaming in their bedroom window. Caramel winced and curled haphazardly into a ball with a low whine.
"Maaaaaac…please…? Just leave me be. There’s no reason to get up. Nothing good is going to happen to me today. I’m still going to be useless and sad and just a drain on you and the family. I’m just weak and bad at everything and I can’t do it today. I just can’t." He grimaced as he realized he’d started to tear up. "You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this."
Mac planted both forelegs on the side of the bed and leaned over to whisper in Caramel’s ear. “Y’know that ain’t true. The colt yer describin’ wouldn’t be wakin’ up in this here bed next to me, ah promise.” He pulled Caramel upright with a powerful heave, but the smaller stallion wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Ah love you, an’ that’s why ah’m makin’ ya get up. Eyyyup, maybe today won’t be any better’n yesterday. Maybe yer still gonna be sad about some things; ah know how ya are, sugarcube. But yer not useless, and th’ first step to comprehendin’ that is to get the hay outta bed and goin’ to do somethin’.” He nuzzled his lover’s neck, and patted him on the back. “An’ more importantly, yer gonna get up because stayin’ in bed all day’ll just make yerself miserable tomorrow, too.”
Caramel turned his head to look into heavy-lidded bright green eyes, flickering with concern. And he was right. Damn it.
He took a deep breath and smiled weakly. “For you, sweetie. For you,” he said, finally pulling himself to his hooves.